Have you ever felt the sting of betrayal so deep that it seems impossible to express?
Cheating can fracture hearts and relationships in ways that words alone often fail to capture.
Here’s a collection of 10 poems that tackle the raw and painful reality of infidelity.
Let’s dig deeper into the wounds and find solace through poetry.
My favorite poem about cheating
#1 “Unfortunate Coincidence” by Dorothy Parker
By the time you swear you’re his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying—
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
I picked the line because it nails the heartache of cheating so well.
I chose this verse as a top example because it masterfully exposes the tension between promises and reality.
This verse really hits home about the pain and confusion of infidelity.
9 more poems about cheating
#2 “Fidelity in Doubt” by Guiraud Le Roux (Harriet Waters Preston, Translator)
Come, lady, to my song incline,
The last that shall assail thine ear.
None other cares my strains to hear,
And scarce thou feign’st thyself therewith delighted!
Nor know I well if I am loved or slighted;
But this I know, thou radiant one and sweet,
That, loved or spurned, I die before thy feet!
Yea, I will yield this life of mine
In every deed, if cause appear,
Without another boon to cheer.
Honor it is to be by thee incited
To any deed; and I, when most benighted
By doubt, remind me that times change and fleet,
And brave men still do their occasion meet.
#3 “The Sick Rose” by William Blake
O Rose, thou art sick:
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
#4 “Faith” by Frances Anne Kemble
Better trust all and be deceived,
And weep that trust and that deceiving,
Than doubt one heart that, if believed,
Had blessed one’s life with true believing.
O, in this mocking world too fast
The doubting fiend o’ertakes our youth;
Better be cheated to the last
Than lose the blessed hope of truth.
#5 “Sonnet 151” by William Shakespeare
Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body’s treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.
#6 “Renunciation” by Dorothy Parker
Chloe’s hair, no doubt, was brighter;
Lydia’s mouth more sweetly sad;
Hebe’s arms were rather whiter;
Languorous-lidded Helen had
Eyes more blue than e’er the sky was;
Lalage’s was subtler stuff;
Still, you used to think that I was
Fair enough.
Now you’re casting yearning glances
At the pale Penelope;
Cutting in on Claudia’s dances;
Taking Iris out to tea.
Iole you find warm-hearted;
Zoë’s cheek is far from rough—
Don’t you think it’s time we parted? . . .
Fair enough!
#7 “Secret Love” by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
He gloomily sat by the wall,
As gaily she danced with them all.
Her laughter’s light spell
On every one fell;
His heartstrings were near unto rending,
But this there was none comprehending.
She fled from the house, when at eve
He came there to take his last leave.
To hide her she crept,
She wept and she wept;
Her life-hope was shattered past mending,
But this there was none comprehending.
Long years dragged but heavily o’er,
And then he came back there once more.
—Her lot was the best,
In peace and at rest;
Her thought was of him at life’s ending,
But this there was none comprehending.
#8 “Constancy” by Elsa Gidlow
You’re jealous if I kiss this girl and that.
You think I should be constant to one mouth.
Little you know of my too quenchless drouth.
My sister, I keep faith with love, not lovers.
Life laid a flaming finger on my heart,
Gave me an electric golden thread,
Pointed to a pile of beads and said:
Link me one more perfect than the rest.
Love’s the thread, my sister, you a bead,
An ivory one, you are so delicate.
These first burned ash-grey—far too passionate.
Farther on the colors mount and sing.
When the last bead’s painted with the last design
And slipped upon the thread, I’ll tie it so,
Then smiling quietly, I’ll turn and go
While vain Life boasts her latest ornament.
9 “Doubt and Love” by Libbie C. Baer
“Love lives by faith,” my lover to me said
In earnest tones which loving thought imbue
With grace divine; such sense of honor, few
On earth attain; and by his fervor led,
My hopes to heaven on airy wings had sped;
When I for answer must—as woman e’er do
Needs question love, and say: “can man be true?”
(O, cruel words, had they but been unsaid;)
A changed voice gave to me this cold reply:
With hollow laugh bereft of all delight.
“To question love doth but a doubt imply;
And doubt kills love.” And lo! before my sight
Love died, and hurled from out an angry sky,
Hope bleeding fell upon the pall of night.
10 “To —” by Frances Anne Butler
Is it a sin to wish that I may meet thee
In that dim world whither our spirits stray,
When sleep and darkness follow life and day?
Is it a sin, that there my voice should greet thee
With all that love that I must die concealing?
Will my tear-laden eyes sin in revealing
The agony that preys upon my soul?
Is’t not enough through the long, loathsome day,
To hold each look, and word, in stern control?
May I not wish the staring sunlight gone,
Day and its thousand torturing moments done,
And prying sights and sounds of men away?
Oh, still and silent Night! when all things sleep,
Locked in thy swarthy breast my secret keep:
Come, with thy vision’d hopes and blessings now!
I dream the only happiness I know.